


nights (frank ocean)

by cielchat



Series: not your mother's songfics [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Biphobia, College Life, Consensual Sex, Depression, Drug Use, Explicit depressive state, Kuroo is just trying to get his life together, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, bruh wtf daishou, frank ocean is my life, go listen to Nights by Frank Ocean, is it a songfic or is it a song rec, look this is just Kuroo getting very sad and beat up, the sad bisexual life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cielchat/pseuds/cielchat
Summary: Sugar Daddy Kuroo has to come from somewhere, and it comes from Kuroo in the midst of college; still lovesick over Tsukki. Needing Kenma more than Kenma needed him, nowadays. Stripped and lonesome and missing volleyball, volleyball missing from him. Twirling at the edges of lives that used to be his rocks-Bokuto and Akaashi. Daichi.He wants love so much it makes him heartsick.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: not your mother's songfics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037031
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	nights (frank ocean)

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the tags in case a character experiencing depression, anxiety, or self-deprecating thoughts will be harmful to you.
> 
> for the rest of you, GO LISTEN TO NIGHTS BY FRANK OCEAN RIGHT THE FUCK NOW

Kuroo had to say, he’d never cried during a lecture before.

In fact, he really didn’t cry that often. Somewhere he had read that while there was the stereotype that girls cried and boys didn’t, it was augmented by the fact that testosterone pushed the trigger to let tears fall a little further out of reach for some. Kuroo figured he fell into that category, especially in middle school and high school, and just didn’t need to cry, but then college hit and then a lot of things started hitting differently, and hitting hard. 

Like getting the lowest grade of the class on a test and having it posted up on the blackboard before the professor started lecture on the same day he’d been denied funding for a research project during a term that really had not been going as well as he hoped it would have. That kind of hit that felt more like a suckerpunch to the nose, one that had Kuroo working on his rectangular breathing and glad that he’d been forced to the back of the lecture hall that day by chance so that no one could look absentmindedly to the side and see the tears running down his face.

It wasn’t going to be cathartic. He couldn’t afford to miss the lecture, if his test score had anything to say about it, and he didn’t want the embarrassment of leaving in the middle, so he didn’t have the option of going back to his room and properly sobbing into a pillow. Instead he was going to squish his emotions down into a hard little cube of guilt and shame that would sit in his stomach refusing to dissolve and keep him up at night. You know, super healthy.

Fucking hell, now his nose was running. If the cute girl in row three looked behind her she was never gonna let him ask her out on a date. He didn’t even have tissues on him.

Kuroo forced himself to listen to what the professor was saying and diligently take notes, and little by little the roar of deprecation in his head faded to an unintelligible mumble as it was replaced by dates and facts and working on his handwriting—no more spelling something wrong in his notes and getting marked off for it on the test, he scolded himself.

The moment the professor gave her usual ‘that’s all for today’, he slid his pen, notebook, and extremely embarrassing test right into his bag and booked it out of the classroom. The closest bathroom to the class was right around the corner, but he knew from experience that it filled up quickly at this time between classes, so he took a few extra turns and went down the basement stairs to the shitty bathroom that was built decades back when the average height of Japanese men was a foot shorter than his own current height and the stall doors of which he towered over awkwardly. Made it absolute hell to stand up in when he pulled up his pants. It was fine for now though, not another soul was in there, so Kuroo leaned up against the sink and pressed paper towels soaked with cold water to the underside of his eyes.

Well fuck. Wasn’t university fun.

“You’re such a piece of shit, Kuroo,” Watanabe laughed. Kenichi tossed him a side eye that Kuroo noticed and Watanabe definitely did not, and he kept on going. “I mean, you’re hot, but you’re never in a relationship. You’re smart, but you fuck around instead of studying. You got good social skills and you just. Talk to everyone, man! Do you have close friends? I kinda wish I were you but I’m glad I’m not, damn.”

“Dude,” Kenichi cut in. “You’re being a douche right now.”

Watanabe shrugged him off. “Kuroo doesn’t care.” He looked at Kuroo, who did his best to keep his smirk plastered on. “Didn’t you say your high school friends called you the ‘master of provocation?’ You appreciate this shit, right?”

“I think you’ve outclassed me here,” Kuroo said. He buried his face in the punch he’d been nursing so far. 

“Hah. You’re being humble. Come on, throw me a bone.”

“Watanabe, chill out.” Kenichi wasn’t half bad, Kuroo decided. He drained his cup.

“Don’t worry about it, Ken. It’s my fault, he liked a girl and she hit on me instead. Happens to the best of us, buddy.” He clapped Watanabe on the shoulder. “I’d feel more bad if you didn’t have a steaming pile of crap for a personality though.”

“Kuroo,” Kenichi said reproachfully, and Kuroo felt just a bit ashamed. But now he was angry and flippant and definitely tipsy, so he let the hot girl with long black hair back it up on him on the side of the room furthest from the hallway light and later took her back to his room.

“You don’t have a roommate?” she asked. 

“Nope,” he said, dragging her panties down. “My name’s Kuroo, by the way.”

“Okay-oh-“

He busied himself with eating her out until her legs were shaking and then fucking her until his own were, and did his best to not think about the arguments waiting in the corners of his mind.

“You can stay the night, if you’d like to,” he told her after, and she agreed, settling in. He slept well, but in the morning woke up to an empty bed and dragged one of his pillows to chest, huddling in his bed and drifting in and out until he couldn’t ignore his own brain anymore.

“You know,” Kenma said, staring at him over his canned coffee, “therapy’s a thing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Kuroo said, then winced at the wide open shot he’d just granted line to. “Well, aside from my hair.”

Kenma graciously didn’t roast him to a crisp. “I’m pretty sure Keio offers its students mental health counseling.”

“Uh huh.” Kuroo munched on his cheese bread snack. “Hello counselor, my parents are both alive, I’m not failing my classes, I’m engaging in the occasional illegal activity, I have a normal amount of friends, and I’ve never experienced true hardship in my life. Can I please talk to you about my daily activities for the next two years?”

“Kuroo. You know that’s not—there’s not a checklist for being sad—”

Kuroo laughed. “I’m just sad sometimes. Why do I need a doctor for that?”

Kenma frowned. “That came out wrong. You know what I mean. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” He went back to his cheese bread. “I’ll get over it eventually and I don’t think making awkward conversation with a stranger once a week is gonna do much about it.”

He could feel Kenma’s piercing eyes on it but he adamantly focused on his reading and knew the subject was dropped when Kenma gave a heavy sigh and picked up his switch again.

He didn’t text Kenma about it when he dropped by the counseling center two weeks later.

“You’ll be triaged at your first appointment,” the secretary said. “You can have a seat while you wait.”

“Sweet,” Kuroo said. “I always wanted to be triaged.”

She didn’t offer any explanation and ignored him, so Kuroo took a seat, stretched out his too-long legs, and stared around the office. A poster on the wall said I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU in bubbly hiragana with the signatures of about fifty students each pledging to help their fellow classmates with their mental health struggles. Kuroo caught sight of the signature of a guy in his organic chemistry lab and thought that even if this guy said “I’ll be there for you” to him every morning before class Kuroo still wouldn’t share a shred of turmoil with him. Hell, he’d known Kenma since he was six and didn’t even want to burden him with anything.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” an old man at the door called.

“Hello,” Kuroo said, and bowed politely.

“I’m Dr. Kohashi. Pleased to meet you.” He led the way to his office and Kuroo took a seat on the long couch with Dr. Kohashi opposite him on an armchair. Kuroo hated it already.

“So, Kuroo-san,” Dr. Kohashi started. “What brings you in today?”

As he left the secretary caught him and asked when his next appointment should be.

Never, Kuroo thought. 

“I’m available at this time every week, if that’s okay.”

Kuroo was poring over his notes on a Friday afternoon when Akaashi Keiji of all people popped up on his caller ID. It was really very strange—Akaashi was a texter, Bokuto was the type to hit him with the unexpected facetime.

“Moshi-moshi,” he answered.

“HEY HEY HEY,” came Bokuto’s beautifully enthusiastic voice. Ah. That made sense now.

“Oyaaaaaa,” Kuroo grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What’s up, bro!”

“There’s a party tonight with alums and students from the volley teams,” cheered Bokuto. “I figured it went to your wrong email and you didn’t catch it or something.”

“I- really?”

Akaashi’s voice filtered in. “The current teams just finished their training week and are having a cookout at one of our current player’s houses, and alumni are invited to come by.”

“We don’t even have to bring food, bro!”

It sounded as if Akaashi were subtly trying to distance Bokuto from his phone. Then again, Kuroo had known Akaashi to smack Bokuto in the face upon occasion, so maybe it wasn’t especially subtle.

“We’re taking my car and driving over, can we pick you up?” God bless Akaashi. God damn his homework.

“Hell yeah, comrades. You remember where my dorm is?”

“Wouldn’t forget it for the world, bro!”

“You’re my world, bro.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up,” Akaashi said dryly, and then promptly hung up. Good guy, Akaashi.

It was a fucking mistake, of course. A stupid mistake and Kuroo couldn’t even say he couldn’t have anticipated it being the completely wrong move because the right thing to do would have been to stay home and do his homework but he chose the wrong thing and it blew up in his face as he deserved.

“You good, bro? You’ve been really quiet.” Bokuto’s eyes weren’t as piercing in the dark car as they usually were, but Kuroo could still see the worried furrow to his brows. Streetlamps rattled their light over the sedan’s interior and he saw Akaashi trying to catch a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.” Oh, Kuroo was not great at lying. “I, um, spent a while talking to Tsukki before I joined up with you guys again and I just got really nostalgic, you know.”

Akaashi could sniff out bullshit like it was no one’s business. Luckily he chose to employ Tact™ from time to time. “It’s difficult moving on, Kuroo-san.”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” and that was Kuroo being honest. Bokuto stayed quiet. His bro was great at inspiration and cheerfulness, but Kuroo was pretty deep in the mire of his feels right now and was grateful for Bokuto respecting that, even if it was only Bokuto’s subconscious working. Eventually Akaashi started talking to Bokuto again in a quiet voice and Kuroo was free to lean his head against the window and watch opposing cars streak by.

Dr. Kohashi often started their sessions by watching him intently.

“How are you today, Kuroo-san?”

“I’m good,” Kuroo lied. For all that he was going to this guy in order to puke out his feelings, he couldn’t quite get over the formalities of a typical greeting and response.

“How have you been since last week?”

“Well,” Kuroo tilted his head back and forth, “I saw a former romantic interest of mine with his new boyfriend and it absolutely tanked my mood for the entire weekend, so that was a delight and a half. I usually don’t run into him.” 

“Oh,” Dr. Kohashi said, put down his pen, and Kuroo knew he was in trouble. “Are you gay?”

“Nope. Bisexual.” His heart was beating a little faster. Ew. He didn’t like that. Dr. Kohashi frowned and put his chin on folded hands to look at him.

“Bisexual,” he repeated. “How long have you been bisexual for?”

“Uh.” Kuroo had naïvely hoped he would be able to rant about still being in love with Tsukki. Idiot. “I guess I realized in high school?”

Dr. Kohashi made a note. Kuroo would have liked to erase it. “And how would you say your relationship with women are?”

“With women— I’m not gay. I’m definitely bisexual. And I’m not in denial, so don’t worry about that.”

“Kuroo-san,” he sighed. “You’re in my office because something in your life isn’t working for you. Having difficulty understanding your sexuality can be extremely emotionally taxing, and especially young…adults like yourself may be going through many transitional periods where there’s nothing you can be sure about. I just want to better understand what you might be going through.”

“I’m going through getting dumped and tanking a class,” Kuroo said through a tight jaw, “not getting confused about my sexuality.”

Dr. Kohashi’s face didn’t budge an inch. “Statistics show an incredibly high correlation between LGBT youth and depression. This may be a subject that would be ideal to focus on in order to progress with your mental health and coping mechanisms.”

“You understand that just because I’m both depressed and bisexual, it doesn’t mean that I’m depressed because I’m bisexual—gay kids don’t become depressed because they’re gay, they get depressed because of all the bullshit reactions to it!”

“I understand, Kuroo-san. It just seems to me from most of our sessions that a great deal of the problems that you’ve been struggling with have been due to transitional periods in your life; entering Keio, taking on the Marketing course track, reintegrating your father into your life…it may be difficult to recognize since you’re dealing with this every day, but that’s what I’m here to help you with.”

Kuroo let his feet tense up inside his shoes and release, and when he spoke again his voice was calm. “I’m not sure what I could truthfully tell you about any of my romantic relationships that could give you any insight on whether or not this is a transitional stage for me.”

Satisfied, Dr. Kohashi leaned back. “Why don’t you start by telling me about any long term relationships you’ve had?”

“Same time next week?” The secretary asked, not looking up from her computer. It was a different one from the woman who’d checked him in for triage.

“Actually.” Kuroo cleared his throat. Awkward. “Would it be possible to meet with a different counselor? You know, just to see if I respond better to a different method?”

“Of course, Kuroo-san. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?”

“Uh. No. Maybe if there’s someone who…This is going to sound weird, but does less listening and more conversation?”

She looked at him. Damn, those were dark eyes. A man could get lost in those eyes. Kind of like you get lost in the woods and you’re not sure if there’s predatory beasts out. Anyways. “Could you elaborate on that?”

“I- Nevermind. I just feel like everything I’m saying is being delivered to Dr. Kohashi’s ears with completely different sound wavelengths, and I’m not sure it’s very effective.” He twisted his fingers below the counter, out of sight.

“Okay….I can’t promise anything, but I’m going to schedule you with someone else in our team who practices a completely different type of therapy than Dr. Kohashi and hopefully that will give you a better idea of what you’re looking for. Again, Kuroo-san, therapy often doesn’t yield immediate results, but we do want you to be comfortable with the counselor you’re seeing. As long as you put in the effort, we’ll do our best to match it.” Her nails clacked away on the keyboard, freakish deep-ocean eyes blissfully no longer focused on him.

“I understand. Thank you so much for the trouble.” He gave her a short bow. 

“You’re welcome, Kuroo-san. Can you wait until the Tuesday after next, five o’clock?”

“Sounds great.” Kuroo wanted to get out of there so bad. He always did.

“Alright, we’ll see you then. Have a good day!”

He bowed again and bolted.

Kuroo found himself back in that bathroom again only three days later with the stall door bolted and his hands shaking.

_No one’s gonna love you like that, he told himself. You aren’t meant to be like Bokuto and Akaashi. Take a look in the goddamn mirror._

He sort of wanted to just throw up and get it over with. A tactical boot. Default setting for getting rid of the anxiety bug.

 _As if you could expect to be gay and happy? No fucking way dude. That shit isn’t for you._

Stupid counselor reminding him of all the doubts he thought he’d worked through years ago. Stupid self for not being able to take the counselor’s advice. Stupid brain for thinking-thinking what? He’d ever be sure being bisexual wasn’t a phase? 

_You know you’re obsessed with chemistry facts because you don’t have any real feelings of your own, right? You don’t feel real love and you know it. You know no one can love you how you are._

He had a coping mechanism for this too. Kuroo opened his phone and tapped on the photo album where he kept his screenshots of texts; little reminders from Kenma that he loved Kuroo, Bokuto being expressive and sincere, Akaashi and his rare openness. Photos of people from his team smiling at him. 

_Fuck you, man. You’re an absolute idiot. Fuck you._

His breathing went back to normal. Three cheers for non-hyperventilating Kuroo! Reward: lunch from the good café. 

_Fatty. Go to the gym._

I will, Kuroo thought to himself. I fucking will. Leave me alone. 

“Take a chill pill,” Daishou said, and Kuroo wished they both still played volleyball for the sheer sake of having the chance to smack a fat spike directly into Daishou’s snaky little smirk. However, he was Kuroo’s current plug for the occasional vice and so Kuroo limited himself to only expressing obvious disdain. It would also be rude to the host of the house party to deck Daishou in the face—would anyone call the police? Probably, and that wasn’t an ideal situation.

“If I wanted to be chill I’d get high, and you’re definitely no baker,” Kuroo told him.

“Too right.” Daishou pulled a baggie out of his jacket. “Molly?”

“Thanks man. I’ll venmo you.” The little turd dropped it in his hand and Kuroo finished the dregs of his beer before dropping the bottle and the empty bag in the trash, and popped the tab in his mouth.

I will slap you so hard, the little Kenma in his head said. Unfortunately for little Kenma, the little Tsukki in his head just looked away and smiled at someone else, so Kuroo didn’t do the responsible thing of spit out the tab and go home, and instead made his way back to the bar room. 

It was much darker there, and five drinks and an undeterminable amount of time later Kuroo was fully in the groove, which is to say, plastered. To the dismay of the parts of his body that wanted vegetables and a good night’s sleep, Kuroo felt fucking amazing. And he felt like hot boy, which he hadn’t in quite a while. Unluckily for his morals and luckily for the hottie on the dance floor that had been eyeing him up, it was time for Kuroo to get it the fuck on. He downed the shot in his hand—his eighth drink of the night—and went right for the hottie.

“I like the silver hair,” he murmured into the shell of the ear below his mouth. Kissed it a little bit. Hottie McHotAss was a little shorter than him, but not by much. He could still grind into a squishy bubble butt without too much trouble and run his hands all over the smooth warm hips and stomach bared by the loose t-shirt. Display? Inappropriate. Advances? Welcomed. Hottie McHotAss turned around to make out with him and the grinding just got better from there.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” Kuroo was kind of impressed he managed a comprehensible question in his current state.

“Not really,” Hottie replied. “You seem really drunk so I’d rather just do this.”

“Sounds good.” He wrapped a hand around Hottie’s waist and went back to what they were doing, and it was great. He was gonna get so hard from this, but that was a problem for future Kuroo, and present Kuroo was busy finding out that Hottie McHotAss liked Kuroo’s tongue. A lot. Wow, that was a loud whine. 

It was a little disturbing, then, when Kuroo found himself in the harsh light of the bathroom rapidly losing memory of how the night had been going. Stupid Daishou, giving him whack molly. This wasn’t really good. This was markedly bad, because Kuroo was previously having a great time and now Kuroo was having a far less good time and Kuroo wasn’t exactly sure how he got from the former to the latter. He gripped the rim of the sink. 

The door slid open and music poured back in, breaking that saferoom feel of the bathroom and absolutely baffling Kuroo. The intruder stuttered out “Fuck, my bad—Kuroo?”

He looked at the intruder, the intruder looked at him. Sexy. Kuroo always wanted a bathroom tryst. The doorframe seemed to spin a little.

“Kuroo, you good?” The intruder was very concerned. Maybe he wasn’t an intruder after all, but rather a savior. Like an angel. A guardian angel.

“I’m gonna take that as a no,” the guardian angel said. “Can I take you back to your place?”

“Buy me dinner first, gorgeous,” Kuroo said. He was such a sucker for a man with dark brown eyes and thick thighs. Wow. His shoulders were very broad too, and oooh. Kuroo was getting draped over those shoulder. If only he had the mental capacity and lack of morals necessary to cop a feel. 

“Do you know how much you’ve had to drink?” Very sexy manly voice. Kuroo spent a lot of time being a very stable, dominant man in all his relationships and would just like to be taken care of for once. By this man in particular. That was a very strong arm around his waist.

“Not much,” he said, staring through his lashes at his guardian angel’s beautiful eyes. “I am high though. Probably not helping.”  
“And that made you call me an angel? I’m a very plain looking guy, my friend, weed should not be messing with your eyeballs that much.”

“First of all, no. There’s nothing plain about the sooty sweep of your lashes and the faint golden and warm blush across your cheek—cheekbones. You’re so beautiful.” Kuroo thought maybe he should try a poem when he sobered up, or shake Daishou’s hand. “Second, I’m crossed with molly, not weed.”

The angel was not taken in by his compliment. “Kuroo, you crossed with molly? Are you insane?!”

“Certifiably.” He wasn’t inclined to do much other than stare at the angel’s face. He wanted to run his hands through the soft-looking brown hair. Who knew getting yelled at was so sexy?

“Tell me where your apartment is. Or dorm.”

“I took the rail.” He felt a bit guilty now.

“Fuck.” The angel rubbed his forehead. “And you can’t even recognize me…did you have a plan for getting back?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no. I think my plan was to take the rail, do a rail, get railed, and then sneak out in the morning. It usually works.”

“Oh my god. Okay.” He slapped Kuroo lightly across the cheek. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here like this, so I want to take you back to my apartment and you can eat some food, drink water, and stay there tonight. Are you okay with that?”

“Superb. I like you.”

“I really, really hope you regret this in the morning,” the guy said, eyes extremely skeptical but also very soft. Kuroo was so poetic when he got crossed. He kind of liked this brain.

Kuroo really, really regretted that shit in the morning. Brain? He had no idea what a brain was. All he felt in his skull was pain. 

He was also in an unknown bedroom, which was weird. What was weirder was that he still had all his clothes on, except for his shoes, and he was quite clean, so he probably hadn’t even hooked up with someone. Probably.

He checked the bathroom mirror for hickeys. Nope. He checked his phone for notifications. Just a venmo request from Daishou. Oh, fuck. He remembered popping molly. Not much after. 

Once Kuroo poked his head around the apartment and found no one to answer any of his questions, he decided it was time to leave. Kuroo had seen enough. 

“Kuroo-san?”

This time it was a woman smiling kindly but briskly at him from the doorway. Kuroo’s apprehension at meeting a new counselor had been completely overshadowed by the apprehension of Dr. Kohashi walking in, calling for another student, and seeing him, and now Kuroo was just entirely relieved.

“My name’s Mizuki,” she said, and shook his hand. They made it to her office seeing neither hair nor hide of Dr. Kohashi, which Kuroo took as a good sign. 

“So,” Mizuki said, settling in the chair opposite Kuroo, “What are you looking for today?”

“Uh,” Kuroo said very eloquently. “I’m sad all the time and it’s interfering with my classwork and friendships. Relationships in general, I guess. With other people.”

“Probably your relationship with yourself too, I would assume.”

Kuroo stared blankly. Mizuki sighed. “It was a joke. I’ll make sure my next joke is better.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, feeling as if he was testing the waters—but the waters of a bathtub. With a toe.

“Please do, my humor is often just down the drain. Okay.” She pulled out a notebook and pen. “So I’m gonna start writing some goals for you. You can hit me with anything you want from health goals to relationship goals to classwork goals. Don’t hold back. Nothing is too frivolous. From there we’re going to see what problems you believe are keeping you from accomplishing those goals and how I can help you to overcome those problems. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, and settled back into his chair an infinitesimal amount. “Got it.”


End file.
